


Growing Up Turian - An Interspecies Love Story

by Vermilion_Sunrise



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: A turian in a human body, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Growing up turian, Honor, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Loss, Love, Romance, Shakarian - Freeform, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Turians, fight, grit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-24 03:32:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17696846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vermilion_Sunrise/pseuds/Vermilion_Sunrise
Summary: Mass Effect, A/U, Shakarian, FemShep/Garrus:  This story is a complete break from canon, using our favoite characters in a different kind of love story. Found by a turian research vessel alone and half dead, young Lorna Shepard is accepted (mostly) into the turian military ranks and raised as such. But growing up the only human on a ship of alien hostiles is not easy for the girl, who becomes a formidable young solider. With the help of Garrus, she will find her way and perhaps even fall in love along the way.





	1. Prologue: There's Nothing Alien About Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've written in this fandom years ago -- 2015 or even earlier and always had some ideas I could not quite realize at the time. Now I'm ready to move forward with some stories I have. I'm an A/U writer because it's been so long since I've played the games that it's hard to remember every event in the order it happened -- and besides, in the end we just want to see our two favorite characters get together.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

#  Prologue: There’s Nothing Alien About Love

 

The batarian slavers struck hard and fast leaving the colonists little chance to take cover, escape or even fight back. Lorna Shepard had been separated from her family and had done everything in her power to stay alive -- and free. Sneaking through the communications tower, she had hidden herself under a pile of dead bodies so as not to be seen. She had also killed more Batarians than she could count, her pistol still warm on her hip. Spotting a clear hallway, and an opportunity, Lorna began running as fast as her 8-year-old legs could carry her to the command center of the colony. The gunshot wound to her side notwithstanding, she could see her goal at the end of the hallway; it was like seeing heaven – her spirits lifted. Relieved to see the heart of the comm center not filled with slavers, she kicked debris out of the door tracks and hit the emergency close button – the doors slammed shut.

Lorna took a moment to remove her hand from the side of her stomach, blood oozed out sickening her. But she couldn’t give up now, she’d come too far. Looking around the room for something that resembled a radio, the little girl did her best to see past the corpses - human and batarian alike - that filled the room. Her fellow colonists had fought bravely, used to hardship and struggle -- but it had not been enough against the more experienced slavers.

‘ _ Wait. Over there!’  _ She saw it in the center of the room, the console she had been looking for. Dragging herself over to the controls, Lorna climbed up on a chair – then cried out in frustration.  Half of the buttons were destroyed, the other ones not labeled. 

Fear and hopelessness were setting in as she slammed her fists on all the buttons haphazardly screaming, “Help!!! Help!!! Help me please!! They’re dead, they’re all dead!!!!  Please. . . . please. . . is anybody out there?” Tears of anger and frustration poured down her face. She had made it all the way, ‘ _ And for what?’ _

She slid off the chair and sat on the floor, her back against the console facing the doors. Lorna had her gun in one hand and her wound in the other. So she waited in a cold windowless room full of dead and twitching bodies for something to happen, knowing her odds looked grim. Moving in and out of consciousness the little girl felt the pain in her side worsening. Her vision would darken, then lighten again making her feel nauseous. At some point it dawned on her that she would likely die here – alone without hope of rescue. Had days passed?  Had hours passed? She didn’t know, though the stench of the bodies had increased and she realized that, even if she had wanted to leave, she no longer had the strength to. She had lost too much blood to do much more than sit there and die.

The first explosion didn’t register in her mind, it was the second, which sent the command center door flying, that wakened her with a scream. Lorna jolted from her dark spiral, her eyes nearly blinded by the light in the room. In her surprise she raised her gun to the door, ready to pull the trigger if need be.  

 

_ ‘Turians, they’ve come!’   _ There was no love lost between Turians and humans, but she knew the two races were united in their hatred of Batarians. _ ‘Hopefully they aren't too late to save the others.’   _

 

The two turian soldiers who blew the door down approached her rifles at the ready, she was frozen in place pistol shoulder level, tears of joy, pain and sorrow running down her cheeks. It was then that a darker plated one with white face markings came to her, kneeling down in front of her, the tip of her gun resting on his breastplate. He gently reached out a clawed hand to her face as she lost consciousness.

When she woke up, Lorna knew she was in a med bay – but not the kind was used to. Stirring slowly she moved her head up to view her stomach – it was bandaged and cleaned. Lorna had a number of strange tubes stuck in her arms and legs hooked to machines that were unfamiliar.  Her distress must have registered because, as if on cue, the dark brown plated turian made his way into the room. He observed her a moment before speaking in the dual toned way Turians did, “You are a juvenile human female, yes?”

It took her a moment to understand that he was talking to her and a moment longer to understand he was asking her a question. Like a deer in the headlights, her eyes wide, she nodded in affirmation. She’d never seen Turians in real life before, just in pictures. They were supposed to be savage killers, capable of ripping humans limb from limb, devouring them whole in a heartbeat. 

 

But this one seemed different.

He continued his questions, coming closer to the bed she was strapped to, “You made this distress call?” He played back her distress call from his omni tool, she shook her head several times, fighting back tears. 

His mandibles flexed in a funny way, if Lorna had been capable of feeling fear at this point she would have screamed. As it was she had resigned herself to her fate,  trusting he meant her no harm. “What do they call you human female?”

“Lorna. . . . Lorna Shepard.” She stammered.

The Turian considered this a moment, as if he were judging whether it was a proper name for the girl. “I am Admiral Akton Nazario, I am the commander of this ship and the one who answered your distress call.” 

He sat down near her bed, so close she could smell his spicy scent.  “We could not save the others, the Batarians executed them all when we arrived.  So all the inhabitants of human colony 67582 are dead, except for you.”

It took her a moment to process what he had just said. Every person she had ever known, everything she had ever done had been erased from this life.  Turning her eyes to his, she had no more tears to give, no more sorrow to feel. The little girl was beyond emotionally spent.

“You are a brave human female, you fought better than any turian of your age – I saw the security footage. You are intelligent, quick on your feet,” he paused a moment, “and you can kill.”  His face twisted into what she thought could have been a smile, it would have sent any normal child screaming, but not Shepard. Not after everything she had seen today.

“What will be done with me sir? I have no family no friends, nothing in this whole galaxy.”  Lorna knew he had saved her for a reason, otherwise the Turians would have just left her there to die. But his actual intent was impossible to know, his facial expressions beyond difficult to read.

At this Admiral Nazario unstrapped her from the bed, removed her tubes, and gently picked her up under her shoulders and placed her in his lap. You would have thought she was a rag doll, the ease with which he moved her.  “I have discussed with my crew and have searched inside myself. It was not so long ago that my own daughter, about your age, left this world for the world of our Spirits.” He paused for a few beats, a sadness in his eyes, to make sure that Lorna was listening.  “I miss her so much. Seeing you on the security footage. . . .you are my Alania reborn, you have her spirit in you Lorna Shepard. She was a fighter, just like you.”

Lorna looked into the Turian’s eyes and felt a warmth run through her body. There was nothing alien about the love that filled his avian eyes. It was the look of a parent to a child, a father to a daughter – tears welled in her eyes, she threw her arms around his neck placing her head under Akton’s chin. 

It must have been a  pleasant surprise for the Turian, who cradled her lovingly. “My current mission will last twelve years. Twelve years of prospecting for minerals and exploring new planets for military gain. In that time you will learn everything you need to be a turian and a soldier. After that, as every young turian, you will choose your way.  This is what I can offer you Lorna Shepard – human female – Alania reborn.” He brought her forehead to his, “Do you agree?”

Lorna’s green eyes met his avian blue ones, she wanted nothing more than to put this behind her and be strong enough to protect herself from whatever might come. She promised herself that she would never let anybody, or anything, take her life from her again. “Yes, father. I want nothing more.”


	2. Her Head Held High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard says goodbye to her adoptive father, and wonders how she will make it through the last months of her mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I won't be able to update so quickly all the time, but I have written a few chapters of this story --- just to see if it fleshed out. Glad to hear from you! Garrus will come to us in the next chapter. Sorry for the wait :-p

#  Chapter 1: Her Head Held High

 

Lorna Shepard stood tall and straight, her turian salute near perfection as she said her final goodbyes. Tears welled in her eyes, but the young woman refused to cry. It wasn’t becoming of a member of the Turian Army to shed tears at a funeral, come to think of it -- they weren’t able to shed tears at all. It was a biological impossibility for turians to do so -- Lorna knew this for a fact. But that mattered little to her in this moment. Any show of emotion would be seen as a sign of weakness, especially such an alien response as what came naturally to her -- a human in their midst.

 

The newly promoted Admiral of the fleet, Avitus Victus, said his words stoically -- the way thousands of years of turian tradition dictated. ”Go with the Spirits, and may you serve them as you have served us. With loyalty, dignity and strength.”

 

With this, her father’s coffin was shot into space, all the crew gathered with her on the upper deck of the ship could see it through the huge windows of their vessel. The reverberation of the massive cannon nearly shaking Shepard from her upright position. She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally steadied herself, for it would have been shameful to fall over in front of the entire crew. The tremor of the canon  had startled her so much, Lorna had almost forgotten to say her words. She added quickly and as loud as she could, “Die for the cause father. I will serve you well and I’ll miss you.” 

 

Admiral Akton Nazarrio had been Shepard’s whole world. Her commander, her mentor and the only being she had in this world -- her father. Lorna stood to inherit his credits and his house on Palaven, but it would never fill this hole she had in her heart. Watching his coffin speed into the dark expanse of space was like getting punched in the stomach by a Krogan, and then getting stomped and spat on. The only time she had felt this low, was the day her adoptive father had found her -- in a pile of corpses close to death.

 

It was unusual, a turian and a human with such a close relationship. Even more so to have the former adopt the latter as his daughter. The First Contact War had left both races reeling -- searching for their place in the galaxy and within the Alliance. The consequences of this brutal war culminated in mistrust between the species, if not open animosity. It didn’t matter if it was on the refined, urban streets of the Citadel, or in the far reaches and back waters of the terminus systems -- when turians and humans met death often followed. It was this hatred between the races that made her relationship to Akton all the more special. Admiral Nazarrio could have left Shepard on her home planet,  colony 67582 in the outer reaches of the known galaxy. He could have left her there to starve, or put a bullet in her head. But he had not. Her father had scooped her into his arms, bleeding and exhausted, brought her aboard his research vessel and raised her from a child into a soldier in the Turian Military. 

 

He’d given her a good upbringing, one becoming of his race-- but that didn’t mean she still wasn’t an outsider. Shepard spoke their language, knew their customs, fought their style of martial arts -- knew their history and their art. She was part of this race, knew nothing else than what it meant to be turian. But she would never truly be one of them. It wasn’t just her physiology that prevented this, but the rampant racism and disgust of humans that permeated turian culture, and this crew. Her adoptive father had known this, he had tried to shield her from the consequences as much as he could. And Shepard was grateful.

 

_ ‘But things will change now.’  _ She knew it in her soul had both welcomed and dreaded this moment for a long time.

 

Accepting her father’s medals and burial flag, Shepard turned on her heels, keeping the upright posture she had been trained to, and marched slowly to the end of the neat row her shipmates had formed. They were a research vessel, but like everything in turian culture, even their project was highly militarized. Among them were scientists, explorers, prospectors and their families -- looking for mineral deposits in the far reaches of the galaxy. The vast majority of the crew, however, had military training and were on this mission for the sole purpose of either invading new worlds, or defending the Primarch’s interests. However it was spun mattered little to those doing the dirty work, only that they lost as few soldiers as possible. 

 

It had been a hostile environment to grow up in, Lorna couldn’t describe it as anything other than that. But better to fight, to assert your position in a hostile environment than to have died of hunger on her homeworld -- or to have been sold into slavery by the batarians. Sure, it had not been easy. As a child aboard this ship, Shepard had suffered names from the older turian kids and soldiers like ‘soft body’, ‘fringless’ and even ‘fat’, for her waist was not in optimal proportion to the rest of her. 

 

Once, when she had been about fifteen or so, she had been surprised in the communal showers by some soldiers only a couple of years older than her. They had been itching for a fight, and too cocky for their own good. Lorna had fought like hell, bloodying two of them and leaving a third with permanent hearing damage before they had overwhelmed her. The curious and threatened young males had held her up against the wall and examined her alien body with the idea of trying to determine if she were male or female. Clearly they had known the answer, but they were cruel and curious, running their sharp  talons over her breasts and bringing their faces to her most private areas. They had gotten as far as agreeing she was female, albeit an ugly female, before one of the commanding officers walked in on the whole thing. Not wanting any issues with her father, the officer broke it up quickly and she was brought to the medbay with some bleeding and bruising. Her attackers had been punished, but not nearly severe enough. So Shepard had trained, worked hard and made sure to pick the older ones as her sparring partners -- beating them in their own hand-to-hand combat style, Comminus, and embarrassing them in front of their own ranks and superiors. 

 

But, there had been good experiences on the ship growing up as well. She had friends, some turians of her own age who were able to look past her race. The younger generations were always like this, having not been born until after the First Contact War they had not experienced the same deep losses their parents and grandparents had. Most of them accepted her for what she was, a bit of a smart ass -- and a good fighter. She had to be to run with this lot, to keep up against an alien race that was stronger, faster and and more agile than she was. Now, twenty years old and with the crew nearing the end of its mission, Lorna couldn’t deny she had enjoyed more good times than bad ones. Most of the crew had at least accepted her, whether they wanted to or not. Shepard wondered how the might change, now that her father was dead and the new Admiral was indifferent to her. 

 

Released from her formation, Shepard did her best to walk as quickly as she could to her bunk in the communal sleeping room, but not look like she was running. All eyes would be on her now, and she couldn’t show them her pain and anguish. Opening her footlocker quickly, Lorna put these prized possessions inside and locked it. She was relieved that almost nobody was around, most of the crew staying up on the deck to drink or trade stories about her father. But Lorna was in no mood to put on a brave face now, she needed to find a place to release the pent up anger and frustration. 

 

Slipping past the few lingering crew members in the hallway, Shepard made her way to the main battery. It was the only place she was sure nobody would be. She needed to cry, to let the tears in her eyes fall to the floor in the mass torrents she had been holding back. Running to a small space in between some of the storage boxes there, in a dark corner of the room, Lorna plopped herself on the floor. It didn’t take long for her to start crying. Tears fell like they never had before, to the point where she started heaving in her chest because she had nothing more to give. She cried for many things. For her loss, for her sorrow, and for her father. Kicking the walls and punching the floor Lorna raged for the love she had lost. When she closed her eyes she could not even remember what her natural parents had looked like, and now she had lost her adoptive father as well. 

 

_ ‘The Spirits have cursed me.’  _ She teased herself bitterly. 

 

Shepard wanted to honor him, needed to keep her promise to him no matter what. There were three more months on this mission before they would stop to refuel at the Citadel, then she would part ways with the crew. Leaving everything she had known. Perhaps his death made it easier to leave, having no one to stay for. But she would have to make it through these final months, and that could be more tricky than even she cared to admit. 

 

A strange sound emanated from somewhere in the battery and Shepard looked around quickly, scanning the room for another. It would not be a good look for one of her shipmates to stumble upon her in a moment of weakness, turians fed on it. Seeing nothing she relaxed a little, her crying ceasing and her chest slowing down it’s heaving. She would make it, and she would do it with her head held high.


	3. The Lonely Little Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus reflects on his own pain at the loss of a good friend, while making a promise to himself to look after Shepard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> Just to clairify a few things in this AU. It's not that Shepard is wildly younger than Garrus ;-) In my mind they are still the same ages / level of adultness that they were in the games. We can take any excuse like humans age faster, or turians join the military sooner :-) Whatever it might be. The point for me is that they both kind of have a crush on each other -- and don't want to tell the other.

#  Chapter 2: The Lonely Little Girl

 

Standing in the last row, his arms crossed behind his back in his formals, Garrus Vakarian watched the funeral of his friend and mentor with sadness. Admiral Nazarrio had been one of the good ones, one of the few in the high turian command who stood up for what he thought was right. 

 

_ ‘There should be more like him. Not fewer.’ _ Vakarian thought to himself, unmoving as he stood at attention. 

 

An illness had taken the older turian, snuffed out his life before its time. It had been unfortunate, even unexpected, but that was life -- no one could predict how it would go or what turns it would take. The only sure thing was that you would die -- hopefully with honor. They had been close, he and the Admiral. Akton had helped Garrus with his demons. He had pulled Garrus out of the gutter that the endless battles, loss and pain of war had brought him. His war hero status didn’t make Garrus immune to depression or vice. The young turian had been in a bad way, and the Akton had thrown him a life line -- given him a way to work through things, and get away from Palaven. Garrus sighed, knowing it would be hard to accept this loss. 

 

His eyes didn’t leave Shepard. She was standing on the bridge, in an upright position that must have been uncomfortable for her human body. Even though he was in the back, Garrus could tell she was doing her best to keep it together. If it was hard for him to see his friend in that coffin, it would be a hundred times worse for her. Garrus took this moment to think back on the day they had found her, the only survivor of a human colony on a far off planet. That day, now almost twelve years ago, was as clear in his mind as if it had happened yesterday. 

 

He hadn’t heard the call when it came over the radio, only gotten the order to suit up and take the younglings with him. They were on a research vessel, but that didn’t mean they weren't ready for battle if it came to it. As the most battle hardened, and still active commander on the ship it had been his role to take some of the younger soldiers on their first live mission. They had been ready, some of them overzealous as youth often was, others questioning whether they could do it. 

 

Their mission was unclear, all they had gotten from the communicae was that help was needed, and that everybody was dead. So they needed to stay sharp, and the fact that they passed a batarian ship on their way onto the planet only deepened that sentiment. The team of turians under Garrus’ command landed and immediately took out the batarian shuttles. It was not known how many of them had left the planet before they arrived, only that any of the humans they wanted to take as slaves had been executed -- they had seen the turians coming and acted accordingly, saving themselves. Or trying to. 

 

Garrus had pushed on to the communication’s center, flanked by four of his young squad. There were tons of dead aliens here, the batarians had hit fast and hard, but the humans had fought back with vigor. They fought with a tenacity that the turians had found out in the First Contact Wars, and you couldn’t help but respect it -- like it or not. Sweeping through the hallways the small team was met with piles and piles of dead bodies. It was evident that many of the colonists had fled here, hoping to barricade themselves in and wait for help or rescue. 

 

_ ‘Man did they miscalculate.’ _ Garrus’ eyes swept down the hallway, to the heart of the communications center. That was where the distress call had been sent from, without any doubt. His rifle at the ready, Vakarian wasn’t used to being at the head of an assault. Normally he was sniping at range, covering his fellow soldiers -- but today was different. As the ranking active officer, it was his duty to show these green soldiers how it was done. So he ordered they hack the door code, but when that didn’t work, he simply used his gun to blow the door off its hinges. 

 

Rifles at the ready, he and one of the squad entered the room. There were piles of bodies in here and it stunk like crazy. It gave Garrus flashbacks of other more difficult battles he had had on different planets in his illustrious career in the Turian Military. Garrus had to shake it off, focus on what was in front of him. But despite the death that surrounded them, it was clear one of these bodies was still alive. A little human girl was slumped against the communication controls, a pistol pointed square at Garrus’ chest. The bullet would have just bounced off if she had shot, his armor was elite military grade and had seen more powerful guns in its day. But Garrus kept his rifle trained on her, not sure what she would do -- and not knowing what she had done.

 

Not needing to think on that subject long, Garrus could hear the admiral coming, though he wasn’t supposed to leave the ship. Akton had pushed past Garrus and immediately went to the girl. Garrus’ mandibles clicked nervously as the barrel of her gun rested on his commanding officer’s chest plate, he was not wearing armor and was more vulnerable to the weapon than anybody else in the room. Then she just slumped over, Garrus couldn’t have been sure whether it was from shock, fear or blood loss -- but either way their mission was now complete. The Admiral scooped the little thing up in his arms and turned.

 

“Take all the video footage, I want to see everything that happened here.” He ordered.

 

Garrus looked to one of his lieutenants and, with a formal nod, the young male went to collect the proper footage. Not wanting to leave his commanding officer’s side, Garrus escorted Akton to the ship. 

 

“What are you going to do with her?” He asked Akton when they were alone, looking down at the girl’s bloodied rags of clothes and her thick mop of black hair covering her face. She was so, human it was strange to see one so close up and not have it begging for its life.

 

“I don’t know Garrus.” His friend said, his eyes never leaving the girl.

 

The Admiral had lost his daughter not more than a year or two before that. There was no clear story as to how, just that she had unexpectedly left this world. It had left the old turian devastated, had made him want to escape his homeworld almost as much as Garrus. So he couldn’t blame Akton for wanting to imprint on this girl, even if she was completely different from him.

 

Once back on the ship, and having resumed their course for Huveda -- the high commanding officers reviewed the video in their war room. Leaning back in his chair, which was placed on a rounded table, Garrus couldn’t believe his eyes. The girl had grit, none of the officers in the room could have refuted this. She’d killed many of the slavers herself, had hidden under the corpses of others for hours, and had managed to get the controls working in the nearly destroyed console. 

 

“We should drop her off at the nearest human colony and be done with it.” One of the officers started, once the video had ended.

 

“I say we execute her and claim there were no survivors. These tapes are easy to doctor, particularly this kind of archaic technology.” Another piped up. 

 

Garrus shook his head,  _ ‘The old guard hasn’t changed one bit.’ _ Not that he was particularly fond of humans himself. They were stinky, soft bodied and arrogant -- but that was in a group. This girl was something altogether different, though he wasn’t quite sure how. Garrus was young for a commanding officer, of all of them at this table he had not fought in the First Contact Wars, making him a different military generation than any of the ship’s high command. His abilities as a soldier and a commander had brought him perks such as this, but he was often at odds with the older generation -- a black sheep, albeit a respected one at this table.

 

“And if she stays here?” The Admiral threw into the round.

 

Some of the officers outright laughed at this suggestion -- though Garrus found it disrespectful. His old friend wore an unreadable face, though Garrus knew better. He had known from the moment Akton had heard her voice that he had wanted to keep the girl on board -- his fatherly instincts and grief overriding his judgement.

 

Not wanting them to drown out the voice of reason, Garrus spoke up. “She killed more batarians than any of the younglings on this ship -- and she’s half their age.” He let that sink in a moment. “I say, we let her choose what she wants to do. We aren't at war with the humans so she’s not a prisoner. And I’m not very sure she’d want to stay on a ship with a bunch of  _ aliens _ like us.”

 

His little joke went over well with the other officers and Akton nodded his head. “I agree with Commander Vakarian. Well let the girl decide what she wants to do. All in favor?”

 

All but two hands raised, which was better than Garrus would have thought. And that’s how it was settled, how a lonely little human girl had grown up on a turian ship. 

 

_ ‘And boy had she grown.’  _ Garrus smiled to himself, while making his way back to the main battery. He’d hung out for a bit with the officers after the funeral, drank one or two to Akton’s honor and took the quick way around the ship to his favorite hiding place. He liked it because nobody usually went there, he could calibrate the ship’s guns in peace -- not be bothered by the rest of the crew if he didn’t want to be. But tonight, he would pull out a good bottle from his stash. 

 

Slumping down by one of the calibration panels, Garrus pulled a bottle of alcohol out from its hiding place and poured the brown liquid down his throat. He hadn’t touched a drop since he’d come aboard this ship, which had been all for the better. There was no chance he’d relapse now, it just felt good to deaden the pain a bit -- and to think about her. 

 

Garrus had watched the human girl known as Shepard grow from a scared child into a good turian soldier. He wasn’t a human lover by any means, but he respected their resolve and tenacity. And as a human female growing up on a turian ship, you needed to have guts and resolve -- be made of sterner stuff than others of your kind. Shepard had certainly been that, and had surely endured the cruel vocal and physical japes of her peers and superiors. This kind of hazing was part of normal turian life, just magnified if you were so obviously different from the norm. 

 

But she had stuck with her choice to stay on the ship. The girl had fought harder than her peers and had become a damn good soldier. It was when she had hit her phase of human puberty, however, that Garrus had begun to take a different kind of notice in her. Shepard had given off a difference scent for one, something that he had never smelled before but found himself wanting to smell more all the same. It hadn’t been really until her seventeenth life year that the turian had found himself looking twice when she walked by, or taking special care to keep her in his sights when they went on missions together -- just so he could observe her without arousing suspicion. Her breasts had grown rounded and perky -- to the point where they were rather prominent in her uniform, which had not been designed to hold such things. Her hips had begun to flair out, giving her a small waist on a heavily muscled body. Garrus had never seen a human female with such a pleasing shape -- even his rather deviant searching on the extranet that may or may not have involved male turians and female humans in compromising positions -- he hadn’t found a female that interested him as much as Shepard. But he had kept all of this to himself, never had any more interaction with her than he had to. It was best for both of them and besides, she probably wasn’t so interested in his species anyway -- at least not as a mate. 

 

_ ‘I should have said something to her though.’ _ He lamented, taking another sip from his bottle.  _ ‘She’s hurting and a kind word would have cost me nothing.’  _

 

He was an idiot, especially when it came to women. Not that living the life of a celibate bachelor on this ship for the last twelve years had done him any favors in that department -- it had at least cleared his head. Chased his demons away, centered him, brought him back to where he needed to be.

 

The doors to the battery pulled open unexpectedly and Garrus froze. No one else was supposed to be here.  He kept still, not sure he wanted to give away his position. If he was lucky it would just be two lovers trying to find a quiet place to have their trist. But he wasn’t, though lucky in war Garrus Vakarian was rarely lucky in life. For the footsteps he heard were not turian, which meant they could only belong to  _ her. _ She had run into a darker part of the battery, not noticing him where he sat against the wall. Then Lorna started making these strange noises, kicking some of the cargo boxes where she was. It was the sound that humans made when they begged for their lives, this kind of gasping sobbing thing. But Shepard wasn’t in mortal danger, wasn’t staring down the barrel of a gun. It was her heart that was hurting, her soul even. This confused the turian somewhat.

 

_ ‘So they make this sound too when they are sad.’  _ Garrus thought to himself, not wanting to eavesdrop on her private moment, but not wanting to ruin it by showing he was there either. This kind of behavior would be unacceptable amongst the crew, which was why she had chosen to do it here -- alone. Every strong soldier needed to let it out once in a while, Garrus knew that better than most. This way was better than the bottle for certain. So he couldn’t judge her, if anything he could empathize more with her than the other young upstart turians that walked around this ship thinking they knew everything they would ever need to know about war. 

 

She would be vulnerable for the next while, Garrus knew this from his own experience. He also knew that turians preyed on vulnerability -- they were predators by nature, exploiting weaknesses by design. Setting his bottle a little too hard on the ground, Garrus heard her stop her crying a moment, as if investigating the noise. Luckily she dismissed it quickly, much to his relief. 

 

_ ‘I’ll keep an eye on her.’  _ Garrus promised himself. It was a far cry from being her friend, but it was something he could do without her knowing. And he liked it this way. So he stayed there, keeping as still as absolutely possible -- waiting for Lieutenant Shepard to cry out her very human emotions.


	4. Permission Denied

#  Chapter 3: Permission Denied

  
  
  


Two weeks had passed since the death of her father, two very long and difficult ones. There had yet to be any open hostility against Shepard, just looks for the occasional verbal jape. But the tension had increased when she was on duty, there was an elephant in the room now that could not be so easily overlooked because she was the daughter of the Admiral. Well aware that this could boil over quickly, Lorna had done her best to do her jobs on the ship well and quickly -- keeping to herself, and a few of her close friends, as much as she could. Only two more days before she had her psych evaluation, which meant she’d hopefully return to full duty. It was important to have a certain number of missions under your belt, and Shepard hated getting passed up for them -- especially after what had happened. She would need to get active soon.

 

Shepard had felt every emotion under the suns of Palaven and had tried very hard to keep them from boiling over, which wasn’t easy given the living arrangement of the crew. Turian ships were such that they slept and relaxed in one huge room with beds in rows, which afforded little privacy. But emotions were not supposed to exist on a warship, unless a little steam needed to be blown off from time to time. Sex was a normal part of living on a ship, particularly in this culture, but she did not engage in it. Though she understood and accepted this, was even turned on by it in many ways, Shepard had always avoided this practice -- giving the excuse that she or her partner might be allergic to one another. In truth she didn’t think she was allergic to turian bodily fluids at all, for she had bloodied and been bloodied in sparring matches and military excursions in her time on the ship. But everybody seemed to accept her excuse, which was fine by her.

 

Instead of going the turian way, she decided to control her raging emotions in the gym. Even at this late hour, there was no harm in taking her private time to push her body to the limit -- with the hopes of falling into a deep and dreamless sleep. Shepard was angry at the world for taking her father from her, confused as to what her next move might be. It was 2am, she couldn’t sleep as the common room had been filled with the sounds and smells of mating. There was a mission tomorrow, those chosen for it would go planet side, clear out local hostiles and make way for some prospecting. Shepard would have killed to be on that mission, had wanted very badly to go -- but she was still on psych evaluation. The death of a family member always needed such evaluations in the Turian Army, and she knew they were using it as a way to keep her off the roster. Her success and discharge status would count on the number of missions she had been on, and her performance in them.

 

So her session tonight would be a good one, an angry one, a much needed one. Lorna had made her gym pants out of the rests of non-formal uniforms. It was hard to have her fit into anything on the ship, so she often had to adjust suits to fit her human shaped body. These fit tightly to her legs, compressing her muscles and optimizing her performance. She’d managed to trade for a couple of sports bras on one of the outposts, so she used that and had thrown a sort of T-shirt type thing over it. It was a mix, but she was proud of her work and her ingenuity in finding things that fit. 

 

Putting on her gloves and arm protectors, Shepard powered up their shields. ‘ _ Hard and fast.’ _ She smiled to herself. 

 

Taking a moment to center herself, Lorna then walked over to what they called “The Destroyer” a seven foot tall cylindrical column that rotated based on how fast or hard you hit it, or blocked its extending arms. These arms would pop out and you would have to block, duck or jump in order to avoid being hit by them. Sometimes they were smooth, most of the time they were spiked. To put it mildly, working the Destroyer into a frenzy was a heart pumping, reflex building, adrenaline inspiring exercise. It was also deadly if you didn’t know what you were doing. 

 

Shepard smiled. This was exactly what she needed. A moment to forget everything and just focus on her own abilities in a fight. Inhaling deeply, Lorna stood in front of this training device and activated it with some verbal commands. Then it started. Slow at first, she was able to punch the blinking parts on the cylinder in an easy tact. Occasionally blocking the solid arms aimed at her body or face. The Destroyer rotated to keep her on her toes, jumping to avoid getting knocked off her feet and blocking a spiky arm coming at her 3. It didn’t take her long to work it up to a faster pace, with more obstacles preventing her from punching the body of the cylinder. And of course with that came more speed, more chances to have her seriously injured or even killed. Growing up on this ship Shepard never forgot that for all of the toughness of a turian’s plated body, it left them rigid. They were good with weapons, but stiff body movements gave her more flexible body an advantage. But she had to be fast. Swiftness, flexibility and no fear -- that was the way to beat a turian soldier at his or her own game. 

 

Sweat dripped from her brow as she pushed the machine faster and faster. Her breathing was loud, her release of breath even louder as she very loudly screamed or muttered as she continued to hit the targets. Sometimes it was the only way to move quickly, to let out all the power and anger she had with her voice. But she was good, she’d trained on this device longer than most because she wanted to be good at it. She wanted to be the best if she could, jumping, spinning and blocking as the hard arms of the rotating column conspired to knock her from her feet. 

 

So engrossed in her training she didn’t hear another enter the gym until his voice was nearly screaming at her. “Attention Lieutenant!” 

 

Jumping back from the device, Shepard almost got a barbed smack in the face for her troubles. But she had only just put herself out of range, the Destroyer paused as if tempting  her to rejoin it. Without having to look in his direction, Lorna knew who it was and she groaned to herself. It was Marcen Kandros, an up and coming commander and one of the males that had often teased her about her ‘human-ness.’ He’d been in the group that had pinned her to the wall in the shower to “explore her true sex.” She hated him, despised him and knew she was a much better soldier than he was. Nevertheless, ever the hierarchical culture, Shepard stood at attention. 

 

Immediately she didn’t like the way he was looking at her. There was something in his eyes that made her hair stand on end. Kandros was a dark brown turian, his facial markings white with a big red line down the middle. She hated his facial markings, found that turians from his tribe were much more conservative and racist than others. But he was a commanding officer, so she muted her concerns -- despite the smell of alcohol coming off of him. Marcen was to lead the team tomorrow, it would be his first time in charge. So surely he had celebrated, but he should have been in bed by now.

 

_ ‘That sort of shit gets soldiers killed.’  _ Shepard thought to herself. He’d always been reckless, secure in his family’s status to get him all he wanted in the military. Lorna was ready to smack that damned mandible flexed grin off his face.

 

“Looks like you need to blow off as much steam as I do.” He started, looking her over once or twice. “Tomorrow’s a big day for me, with my first command and all. Let’s fight Shepard, you can help me hone my skills for tomorrow.”

 

Lorna fought the urge to click her teeth together, a turian sign of annoyance. But she did protest. “Permission to be left alone sir. I merely want to train in peace.”

 

“Permission denied, soldier.” Kandros said with annoyance. “Now we fight.”

 

Shepard didn’t like this, not one bit. It wasn’t that she hadn’t beaten him before -- but this wasn’t sparring in front of her hand-to-hand class, this was him trying to prove something. Ducking to avoid his punch, Shepard didn’t hesitate to kick him square in the armpit -- a well known turian soft spot. Her alien comrades were built to take punishment, their armor plated bodies a testament to their evolution as a militaristic race. But like all beings, they had weak spots -- and Lorna knew them all. She had to if she wanted to make it on this ship. Angry, he came at her again punching two, three four times and she redirected everyone -- sidestepping as she did so. She had a bit of luck, catching him right in the mandible and making him bleed. Not able to wipe the smile from her face Lorna advanced on her commanding officer. Two kicks, an punch with an elbow landing in his chest. There wasn’t much of an effect, it only served to show him she could have done more damage if she had wanted to.

 

But it was clear he wasn’t playing that kind of game. 

 

Immediately hitting back, Shepard found the utter pain of being punched right in the ribs. He hadn’t completely held back on that, now flexing his talons as she doubled over. In sparring turians were not to use their talons with a shipmate, it was dangerous and lead to unnecessary injury. But all turian honor had been thrown out the window, at least on his side for Kandros advanced on Shepard kicking at her so as to back her in a corner. Twisting out of his line of fire, Shepard ran behind him putting her arms back up despite the pain she felt in her side. Two strikes later she had, again, left him with some bleeding from the face. It was a short lived victory. Tackling her at speed, Lorna’s head hit the ground with enough force that she saw double for a few short seconds. By the time she was back to herself, Marcen had control of her arms and legs -- straddling her so she could not move. 

 

He bent down and inhaled her scent, it was highly inappropriate for him to do so -- it made Shepard’s skin crawl. This was the part of blowing off steam she had hoped he wasn’t referring to, but now it was a little late to get out of it. She was helpless against him now, hoping only that he would make some sort of huge blunder so she could flip him on his back and run away as fast as she could.

 

“Now we get to the fun part,” he paused, “at least for me.” He was proud of himself, Shepard could hear that in his voice. “I hear human females have an even tighter hole than this.” He ran a battle sharpened talon over her mound, catching the fabric of her pants as it did.

 

“No.” Lorna said as calmly as her mind would let her. Turian culture was about respect and consent, and she hoped her answer would shore up any purposeful misunderstandings on his part. 

 

Kandros chuckled at her answer, then started to turn her over. “Nooooo!” Shepard screamed as loud as her lungs would let her. 

 

She twisted, turned and fought in his grasp as hard as she could. It did little to stop her attacker  as he positioned her on her stomach between his legs. One of his large hands holding her arms by the wrists above her head, the other clawing to pull her pants over her bum. Lorna was bucking now, and that only seemed to entice Kandros further, a laugh emanating from his mandibles.

 

“You have two seconds to let her go, pup.” Came another dual toned voice from the room. 

 

Shepard didn’t have to look up to know who it was, his voice was well known to all turians in the galaxy. It was the voice of Commander Garrus Vakarian. Though happy he was coming to her aid, Lorna groaned in utter embarrassment. Vakarian was the quintessential turian bad boy. The toughest badass to ever set foot in the Turian Army.  He was the youngest commander in the history of the turian military, the most decorated sniper with the highest confirmed kills ever. EVER! The commander was a celebrity of sorts, a super star in the turian world. Every male wanted to be him and every female wanted to catch his attentions -- even Shepard, though she had resigned herself to the fact that she was most likely not his type. Her turian brothers and sisters were not ones to seek mates outside of their race, aside from the occasional asari trist. That didn’t mean she hadn’t thought about it once or twice, giggled to her closest girlfriends about how he might look with nothing but a sniper rifle and a smile.

 

The reasons for him being on this ship were a matter of common lunch time speculation. Some would have said he was on a secret black ops mission, and that their ship had a dual purpose in the security of the galaxy. Others speculated that he had refused to marry the Primarch’s daughter and this was his punishment -- being stuck on a boring research vessel with nothing to do but calibrate weapons for twelve long years.  But it was just that, speculation. Vakarian kept to himself, only going out on missions or teaching the young ones -- like Shepard -- sniping or hand-to-hand combat. He was a good friend of her father’s, she knew that. But she had never been in the same room with him for long, and only ever exchanged no more than a few words with him in passing.

 

Now Lorna couldn’t have been more embarrassed. She was at her must weak and vulnerable, about to be raped by a commanding officer, beaten and hurting -- there were few things in the turian world that were more shameful than that. But she didn’t have time to dwell on her self-pity, as two seconds had passed she felt the weight of Kandros lift from her body. Garrus had given him a swift kick to the stomach, literally launching him several feet away. Finding some small courage, Shepard looked up at her protector, their eyes meeting only momentarily as he did a cursory sweep of her body for any mortal injuries. 

 

Then he turned back to Marcen, who had only just begun to stand up.  _ ‘This is a bad idea.’ _ Shepard thought. 

 

Vakarian was the top rated hand-to-hand specialist on the ship, and in the army’s top fifty. The younger turian stood little chance, but there was a lot to be said when it came to young male egos, especially in front of females.  As they sized up one another their mandibles started clicking in a way Shepard had never heard before. She’d seen lots of sparing between turians, had been in the heat of battle with them too. They often clicked their facial plates to indicate certain emotions -- anger, frustration, joy. But she had never heard this sound before. It was eerie, and foreboding. They were two adult males in their prime and, by the sounds of it, they were about to rip one another apart. 

 

Their bodies slammed together at speed and Lorna dragged herself into cover. Never in her life had she witnessed two males fight for real, their strength and intensity was something to behold. Turians often had an air of civilization and dignity to them, even in battle. What she was witnessing now, was completely the opposite. It was as if two wild animals were fighting for supremacy, they way they punched, swiped and bit at each other gave her nothing but fear. It wasn’t hard to see that Garrus was toying with Marcen, their initial grappling over, he had taken to blocking the younger turian’s advances easily. It only served to frustrate Marcen, tripping him up and allowing for Garrus to slash him with his talons across the chest. Then methodically, and with malice, Vakarian began to pick Kandros apart. His legs were the first to go, a sickening crunch could be heard as Garrus incapacitated them. That was followed by his right arm then his left. 

 

_ ‘He won’t be battle ready at this rate.’  _ Shepard smirked at that thought, knowing that the medical team would not allow Marcen off the ship tomorrow. Vakarian knew what he was doing, punishing Kandros’ behavior in the best and most hurtful way possible. 

 

The broken young Marcen was forced to the ground on his stomach, and she could hear Garrus whisper to him, “Get out of here before I report you for your dishonor.”

 

Flashing Vakarian a death stare, Kandros picked himself up from the floor, albeit slowly, and limped out of the gym. Both his pride and his body heavily injured. Garrus watched him until he was out of sight, his body protectively placed between hers and that of her attacker. 


	5. Getting to Know You Awkwardly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard gets to know her crush and idol, albeit in an awkward situation.

#  Chapter 4:  Getting to Know You Awkwardly

 

When Garrus finally turned to her, his entire body language changed. Gone was the upright, hard nosed fighter and in its place a that of a concerned friend. 

 

“Can you get up on your own steam Shepard?” Garrus asked. 

 

_ ‘He knows my name.’ _ Shepard thought with some momentary exhilaration -- only to remember that she was the only human on the ship -- so it would be nearly impossible to not know who she was. Lorna snorted frustratedly. 

 

Not wanting to look weak in front of him, lest she triple shame herself tonight, Lorna replied, “Of course, sir.”

 

But as she stood she realized she had sorely miscalculated, feeling the floor coming right back to her. 

 

“Ooops.” Garrus chuckled lightly, catching her mid air as if she were ballroom dancing with him. Her father had let her watch some old human movies, so she knew something about her own culture. This felt like one of those moments, where the guy catches the girl and they look into each other’s eyes and fall in love. Except the girl was often not beaten to a pulp and feeling like shit, and the guy was not the most kick-ass intergalactic sniper in the known universe.

 

_ ‘Fuck my life.’ _ She tried to smile weakly.  

 

Pulling her right arm around his neck and gripping her waist with his other hand, the commander pulled Shepard into a standing position. The world spun a little, but she couldn’t help but notice how strange it was that he would hold her there. The waist was an extremely intimate part of a turian’s body. It was a point of attractiveness in both male and females, it could also be an erogenous zone. Commenting on it, much less touching it, was reserved for lovers and perhaps close friends. As she and Garrus were neither, it made Shepard wonder what he was thinking as he kept his taloned hand wrapped firmly around her waist. 

 

_ ‘Perhaps I’m just so human he isn’t even thinking about it.’ _ Surely that was the reason, for no male in his right mind would touch an unknown female that way -- especially without her leave. She chuckled bitterly to herself thinking of Kandros, for surely not all males were honorable either. 

 

The halls of the ship blended together, and Shepard was happy that, at the very least, they didn’t meet a single soul as they made their way to the medbay. The world was swimming a bit, but Vakarian kept her firmly upright and moving. Feeling it was better to close her eyes Shepard did so, allowing her commander to help her not bump into anything as they moved through the ship. Secretly she was happy they had not bumped into anybody, it was late  of course, but you never knew who would be roaming the hallways so as to keep order. She didn’t want anybody to see her, and she wanted to enjoy feeling the sturdy body of one of the most famous commanders of the turian fleet supporting her. Even if it was somehow shameful to be in such a position.

 

Hearing a pair of doors slide open, Shepard felt a sense of sadness that she’d no longer pulled in so close to the war hero -- admittedly her super crush. Though she was probably rather beat up and by far looking her best, she had nothing to lose anymore in front of him. At the very least it would be a great story to tell her closest friends -- the night Garrus Vakarian kicked Kandros’ ass and touched her on the waist by accident. She laughed bitterly, then felt him lift her onto a table. Opening her eyes into slits so as to see where they were, she realized this was not the room she knew so very well. 

 

“This isn’t the medbay.” She blurted out, in that kind of accusing tone that desperately implied her desire to be in his room. Alone. With him. Her legs were dangling off of a table, her hands gripping the edges so she could maintain an upright position despite her spinning head. Shepard did her best to spy his personal quarters, not knowing what to make of the large, neat and comfortable room. There were a ton of guns everywhere, sniper rifles of ever description and a few she hadn’t seen. 

 

Before she could gawk too much he turned from a cabinet he was rifling through and grinned at her roguishly. “The perks of being a war hero.” He added, then came toward her with an arms load full of supplies. 

 

“Now, tell me where it hurts.” He said simply, standing so close to her she could smell his scent. It was spicy, like many turians but it had a little something else to it -- a bit earthy too, like the wet grass she remembered from her home planet. Shepard inhaled him deeply, not realizing how horribly inappropriate that might have been if he had noticed her do it. For to inhale one’s scent was more an invitation than a flirtation. Lorna quickly shook it from her mind.

 

Using her hands she made a motion to indicate everything hurt, because she was indeed pretty beat up.

 

“I’ll start from the top then.” He ran his hands over her head and through her hair. Shepard presumed he was looking for any blood or fractures, but in her mind she hoped he was touching her as if it were her fringe. Fringes were the most intimate parts of a turian’s body, the back of the head was so sensitive that it brought great pleasure and built trust between lovers. Deep down she would have wished for that, but the more logical part of her knew better. Humans had other erogenous zones, and no matter how long she was on this ship hers would always be different and alien to them.

 

Holding her chin up so she could look him in the eye, Garrus took one of his talons and moved it across her field of vision. It was hard for her to track it, it hurt her head to do so. But he had such beautiful blue eyes that she found she could bare the pain if just for the pleasure of looking unabashed into them.

 

“You’ve got a slight concussion.” He said, moving his talons down her neck. His touch was so tender despite the sharpness of his battle ready body. “He smacked you pretty hard to the floor.”

 

Ashamed, Shepard said nothing -- not wanting to further point out her weaknesses to a commanding officer, especially one as attractive as Vakarian. Having never seen him so close up before, Lorna did her best to try not to look like she was looking at him. Memorizing his facial plates and his deep blue eyes.

 

“You fought well out there Shepard. You had embarrassed him long before I got involved.” The more decorated turian was trying to restore some of her pride she supposed, but all Lorna could think of was that he had been sitting there watching the whole bloody thing take place. 

 

_ ‘How long did he watch?’ _ She hoped not too long, she didn’t need anything more to go bad today. She knew her cheeks had turned a slightly darker shade of pink, her human response to the embarrassment she felt.  _ ‘Hopefully he won’t notice, or ask why I’m blushing.’ _

 

Turians didn’t know much about humans and how they functioned. They knew how to kill humans, how to hurt them and all about their military technology -- but their social lives and culture were not well known in this society. As such, all that Shepard had ever learned about being human had come from movies or videos she had been allowed to watch by her father. He had always encouraged her to be curious about her own race, but sadly could not answer much of the questions she had. Topics like, how to greet a human, what words one would use to express love, blushing, arousal -- literally everything that an alien child would want to know about themselves Shepard had had to search for on the extranet. And most of the time it just lead to more questions instead of answers.

 

Garrus’ fingers ran lightly over her arms then came back up from her waist toward her shoulders, that’s when she really winged. Her ribs were on fire, she almost didn’t want to look at them but knew she had to. Usually they would have armor on to spar, today she had only her gloves and arm guards -- her body was exposed, fragile to Kandros’ attack. As he bid her lift her arms to the side Shepard did her best not to cry or make any sounds -- even though it hurt a lot. He wasn’t going to be able to lift her shirt over her head, she could tell by how much her body had seized. 

 

“I’m uh, gonna have to cut this off.” He said, though he clicked his mandibles nervously. 

 

Lorna merely nodded, not wanting to look into his eyes. Just wanting to get this over with and go lay in her bed. His talons as sharp as razors, Vakarian made quick work of her t-shirt and bra by slicing the garments up the front and the back. 

 

_ ‘Well there goes that bra.’ _ Lorna shook her head, they were hard to come by in the outer reaches of the galaxy.  _ ‘All the better I find some civilization on the Citadel.’ _

 

It was her dream to go there, she just had to submit some final applications and she would know soon. She wanted to be in the Alliance Army, perhaps even become a Spectre -- who knew. The first human-turian spectre, she always laughed at that. It was good to dream though and she wanted it more than ever. 

 

Sliding her torn clothing off, Shepard couldn’t suppress the redness of her cheeks and chest that formed at the thought of Garrus Vakarian seeing her topless. It was not the best circumstances under which to be seen, certainly not the one she had fantasized about. But like everything today, she was going to have to roll with it. 

 

The turian didn’t hesitate to put his head to the side of her chest. “Breath in and out slowly.” 

 

She could feel the smoothness of his faceplaces caress her bare skin, forming goosebumps she could not control. Lorna tried so very hard to comply with his wishes, knowing that he was probably just being helpful. Cringing at herself for this whole entire mess she had been thrust into Shepard didn’t even hear her commanding officer talk to her the first time. 

 

“Shepard, hey!” Vakarian snapped his talons with a loud crash and she was suddenly back with him. 

 

He wore a slightly amused look on his face and Shepard was not really sure why. ‘ _ Spirits those eyes.’  _ She couldn’t help but think as they stared at one another a moment. 

 

“Nothing’s broken or punctured, but you will have one hell of a bruise.” He left his diagnosis hanging in the air.

 

“Well you know me, soft bodied.” She tried to make light of the situation, knowing it was a common taunt from turians to humans. 

 

“Better bruises than cracked body plates.” Vakarian countered, “You humans are tougher than you look.”

 

_ ‘Did he just compliment me?’ _ She wandered through the haze of her concussed brain. _ ‘Now that’s a story to tell the girls.’    _

 

Shepard pondered this a moment while Garrus grabbed a few supplies from beside her. The medigel was cold on her body and she sucked in breath when he applied it to a few of her open cuts and her bruised ribs. The slight hiss that escaped her lips, though a very human reaction, could have been mistaken for a flirtation in the turian world -- at least the way it came out of Lorna’s mouth. The injured lieutenant groaned inwardly at how that could be construed, coming onto a commanding officer wasn’t exactly looked well upon either.

 

‘I’ve broken every damn rule in the book tonight.’ She lamented, looking away as Vakarian wrapped her torso in bandages so as to keep the soothing creams in place. 

 

Luckily for her, it didn’t seem he took her odd noises to be anything more than that -- awkward human pain noises. Lorna loved her friends on the ship, but knew deep in her heart this was not where she belonged. The deeper question would have naturally been, ‘Where do you belong then?’ and it was one she could not answer. Especially not now, here in this room, with this male in her presence. 

 

It surprised Shepard how grounded Vakarian given the reputation he had. He had been kind, professional and above all not judgemental. She appreciated that, had wanted to say something to that effect but the words, and her own consciousness kept escaping her. ‘Did I really get hit that hard?’ She kept asking herself, not remembering everything that had transpired that night between her and Kandros. 

 

“And the final touch.” Garrus said, his deep dual toned voice bringing Shepard temporarily out of her haze. 

 

One of his informal shirts came over her head and fell in an ellipse around her body where she sat on his workbench turned medbay examination table. It seemed he had forgotten that without a carapace Shepard’s shoulders were woefully narrow compared to his. She couldn’t fit into any clothing on the ship unless she altered it to fit her human frame. 

 

Perhaps she had lost it by then, or just couldn’t help herself given the situation -- but she broke out into a fit of laughter at the whole situation. Of course, this too, was horribly inappropriate to do in front of a commanding officer -- but then again the whole situation of sitting there topless and bruised in Vakarian’s private quarters was just as ridiculous in her mind. 

 

“Right.” She could hear Garrus say, a bit of amusement on his face at the whole thing as well. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Disappearing into the back of the room, he returned with a silken robe -- though it was large for her it would fit around her body. Shepard was grateful for the little bit of coverage, particularly given the situation. Though it was an oddly human thing to own for a turian of his stature. 

 

“Where did you get this?” She found herself asking, before her better sense stopped her mouth from moving.

 

“Picked it up on Earth. Fought some battles on an island called Japan. The Earth commander gave it as a gift -- you know strange customs and all.” He said it nonchalantly as he eyed her. 

 

Lorna couldn’t place his look. She blamed it on the concussion and her own imagination, but she could have sworn there was more behind his gaze than just platonic concern. 

 

“Thank you sir. I guess I’d better be getting back to…” She began.

 

“You’re not going anywhere Shepard.” Garrus crossed his arms and waited for her response. His words were not orders in the strict sense of the word, but they left little room to argue. But when he saw she was about to open her mouth to do just that he continued.

 

“If those soldiers smell blood on you it’s going to awaken their baser instincts, and I think we’ve seen enough of that for one day.” Garrus scooped her up from the table and put her on his neatly made bed.

 

“But you have a mission tomorrow.” Lorna protested, though she found the softness of his bed extremely inviting. 

 

“I never sleep before a mission. Don’t worry about me Shepard. We’ll talk later ok?” 

 

Lorna didn’t hear the rest of what he said, for sleep came for her tired, weary and torn body. And she was amazed at how the simple closing of her eyes could take all the physical and emotional pain away.


End file.
